Our Landlord, the Rabbi

Renting Rabbi Shmuel Orenstein's NYC apartment changed our lives.

My husband and I were newly married and more than annoyed with our new nest. Aryeh’s bachelor pad was just too small for the two of us. Like the couple, the place had quirks. Everything was up high: all the closets, all the grooved in bookcases. If you wanted to read or get warm with a basic, like a sweater, you had to get on Aryeh’s only chair, which was wobbly, and reach. I am grateful he had that one chair or else all my sweaters might still be there.

My husband's friend Phillip knew a Rabbi Shmuel Orenstein who had a large one bedroom apartment for rent, and he recommended us. The appointment was set for six in the evening and, apartments being what they were in New York City in the 90’s, we got there on time.

When we arrived, unknown to us, but characteristic of him, the rabbi was waiting for us at the door of his brownstone. He looked just like a typical Brooklyn rabbi to me, in his mid 70s, with a white beard. I did look twice at his large blue eyes because there was something different about them. Most people have a secret in their eyes; a hiding place or two in their face. This rabbi appeared to have none.

He showed us the apartment with the air of a salesman to him. “Look at this closet! You could park a Buick in it.”

After perusing the apartment, the rabbi suggested we all go up to his shul, the next floor up, to talk a little. I think he wanted to see if he could discern something for himself about us. The recommendation from Phillip was good, but we weren’t Phillip. I think he wanted to see what we felt like as people.

We acted as miniature as possible, hoping he would like us. Sometimes acting nice feels like acting meek. We were real tiny. We wanted the place. The rabbi told us his rule, “Please, you’ll pay the check at the beginning of the month. Don’t make me come for it.” In less than a year he would say back to me: “You know, Mrs. Joseph, you’re like a bank.” It’s odd to think of that first day when the Rabbi was just a stranger to us.

Our new apartment was much larger than Aryeh’s, but it still had the drawbacks that all Manhattan apartments have, the drawbacks that you would never put up with anywhere else.

For example, the door next to our apartment was the door to a bathroom that was used by the rabbi’s shul, the floor above. When people walked towards our apartment it was always with some urgency and the accompanying apologetic nod. I was always grateful for the nod because it gave the illusion that we were all on equal footing, them having to go to the bathroom and us living next to it.

Will he always greet me like this? Will I have to come up with this exuberance every time I see my new neighbor?

A day or so after we moved in I went to the market to pick up all the odds and ends a new apartment might need: salt, pepper, garlic powder, eggs, olive oil, etc.

When I got back to the brownstone the rabbi was at the door holding it open for me. As I sidled in with my mound of plastic bags, he said, “Oh Mrs. Joseph, you’re back!” It was such a hearty and heartfelt salutation. The kind of hello that not only greeted you, but welcomed you and made you feel special. Quite frankly, I didn’t get it. I mean, what was he up to? Would he always greet me like this or was this just the first hello in the new house after the settling in day so this was the big one? Scarier still for me was the notion thatI might have to come up with this exuberance every time I saw my new neighbor which could be three times daily, maybe more.

Not that I like to admit this to a group of strangers, but I can be grumpy at times, especially in the mornings. Would it be okay for us, for me and my new neighbor, to just grunt at each other if the day called for it? Was he going to keep this up or not was the question I couldn’t ask.

The next time I saw the rabbi gave me my answer. “Mrs. Joseph, you’re home! Was it cold out? It looks cold.” I managed to greet him back with a reciprocal hearty hello but my intonation may have sounded more like, “Oy vey, no kidding?”

I skulked back to my apartment, my shoulders folded over, wondering why I was so challenged by the Rabbi’s innocent and small requirement. I felt like a loser. Why can’t I just come up with a big hello daily? What am I hoarding here?

Then a thought occurred to me, a thought that for the moment saved me. I was by profession an actress. I wasn’t acting professionally anymore, but I still had a good performance or two in me. It wasn’t so long ago that I had performed in an Off-Broadway show or a soap opera. I could do this; in fact, this was me. I could dupe the rabbi daily and exercise my acting muscles all at the same time. Everything was right again.

In Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, the great poet Walt Whitman writes, “The performance reflects back on the actor.” In more ways than I can describe I was changed by my daily “Hellos.” Over time I didn’t recognize myself; his “Aliza, you’re home!” would be met back with an over the top “Rabbi!” The voice sounded more like a teenager’s than my own because with enthusiasm comes youth. Looking back, what was he? He was normal, and I wasn’t, and he changed me forever with a simple hello. This is how I learned the mitzvah of greeting every Jew with a happy countenance. I didn’t learn it; I was shown it.

A year later Aryeh and I made the investment for a new dining room table with six Shaker chairs. The rabbi, as always, was there for the delivery. I don’t recall a thing that was ever delivered to the house that the rabbi didn’t greet first. Maybe he’d hold the door, or watch the truck, figure the door width. He was always there, not in a meddling way, but in a way that made you have hope for the human race. Hope because he seemed to care for your stuff as if it was his stuff. Anybody the rabbi knew he watched out for. All you had to be was decent and known by him and you would qualify for the treatment.

We had been married well over a year now and had not been lucky in the area of children. As the table was being hoisted into the apartment the rabbi pleaded at me with his hands held up towards the sky: “Oy, Aliza, this table should be used for a simcha!” We were neighbors, good neighbors, and therefore our problems became his.

A few days later, I got a knock at my door at 10 a.m. I opened it to find the rabbi peeking out left from behind a huge plant.

“Aliza, here, you’ll take this plant. I have the mother plant upstairs and I cut some off for you. People have had very good luck with this plant.”

I looked back at the rabbi like a drunk deer. “What kind of luck?” I asked.

“Children, kinderlach,” he replied.

“The tenants before you, the Marks, had three kinderlach from it, all born here,” said the rabbi with a triumphant kind of a smile. I thanked him and took his plant shaking my head secretly as I shut the door. I hale from an upper middle class, cultured, Bostonian family and here was my nice rabbi from Europe who was giving me his plant. Isn’t he quaint, I thought, in my best erudite Bostonian sensibility. Isn’t that cute.

After 36 months of combined bedrest and four beautiful babies later, I no longer think the rabbi or his plant are merely cute.

I knew enough of my pathology, in terms of fertility, to know it wasn’t likely I would be lucky. Just a few weeks earlier, my husband and I had been in to see the “top guy” who told us that my having a baby was as likely as finding a needle in a haystack. After 36 months of combined bedrest and four, crying, beautiful, 6 pound babies later, I no longer think the rabbi or his plant are cute.

Look at this man. He trudged out in the middle of winter, got a pot and soil, cut the leaves off, and repotted the thing. Carried it down two flights of stairs, at age 75, with a heart condition to boot. "Loving your neighbor like yourself" I learned from the rabbi. I didn’t learn it, I saw it. He was it. A person could teach themselves to love people they didn’t naturally love by doing things for them as if they did. The rent was starting to seem real cheap when you factored in the add-ons.

On Our Shoulders

Rabbi Orenstein’s life started in Poland. He was a teenager when the war broke out, and when he came home from Yeshiva his family was gone; the house was empty. One could only imagine the scene through squinted eyes. Many of the rabbi's grandchildren are now named for his holy family who were murdered by the Nazis.

Before the war he attended Yeshiva in Kamenitz under the famed Rav Boruch Ber Leibovitz. The war years were spent in Buchara (currently Uzbekistan and Tajikistan) together with a group of Kamenitzer students. They formed an underground study group which included such luminaries as Rabbis Sholem Leibovitz, Shaul Brus, Noach and Hershel Feldman and Avraham and Moishe Aaron Brody. It should be noted that these young men kept a full day's study schedule despite their ever watchful, dangerous new neighbors.

The rabbi came to America afterwards with an accent and some usually unseen scars. “You know Mrs. Joseph it’s a funny thing,” he’d say to me from time to time, a little smile on his face, a comical tone in his voice, as if he were being childish. “You know, it’s a funny thing, but I don’t like basements. I don’t like going into them alone. Could you or your husband come with me?”

I came to learn that the rabbi had been singled out by the KGB as the organizer of his underground study group. He was then taken to a basement-like cell where he was held for six weeks. Many times during his stay in prison, he was beaten in order to give over the names of the students. The KGB singled out the wrong guy. Beating after beating, the rabbi repeatedly gave them nothing. “Mordechai would not bow or prostrate himself.” ( Esther 3:2)

I should say we'll accompany you to the basement, Rabbi Orenstein, along with all of Klal Yisrael and we will sit in the corner of your shade, twiddling our thumbs in grateful reflection, doing whatever it is that a generation does who is embarrassed about how good they’ve had it. Yes, I’ll go to the basement with you, while you putter with the pipes, look through old papers, and do what ever a righteous man does in a basement. And while we're there, we'll think about those men that beat you and we'll know that you were the best thing their ruddy stained hands ever touched.

When the time is right, and you want to go upstairs again, we’ll take you up on our shoulders like the great sports heroes of our day. For who is it that gets hoisted up on shoulders high? It’s the guys who came early and stayed late and left everything out on the field. It’s the ones that saved the day so that the team could live to see tomorrow. It’s the guys that made the play even against the harshest of odds. Rabbi, isn’t that who you were? It’s the men and women like you who lived, and the ones that didn’t, that saved the day. You saved our people, and you are our heroes.

We couldn’t have known how this gentle man would manage to melt into our lives and guide us long after he was gone.

When the Mashiach comes, I like to think that there might be a video that starts to circulate of all the moments that helped bring the redemption. In it will be all the selfless acts and important teachings. Look carefully for the part where an elderly rabbi, medium height and build, stands davening mincha by the shtender in his shul. You’ll see a regular man, who appears like everyone else, but his connection to God, when no one is looking, will let you know he earned his place. In the video, scratchy at first, you might notice in the lower right hand corner of this beautiful scene a strange little woman peeking in through the crack in the large metal door. She’ll be holding a first of the month check to her chest, wondering who in the world will believe her when she tells them her neighbor is a tzaddik, a righteous man.

Of course, we couldn’t have known any of this on the day we first met the rabbi. We couldn’t have known about his kind tone or the smell of the house on Friday afternoons when the rebbitzen’s kugel filled us with anticipation for the coming Shabbos. We couldn’t have known who would be born to us, or the way the rabbi’s feet would scuff across the floor telling me, a lawyer's wife, nightly, that I was not alone. Not only that I was not alone, but that there was a kind of spiritual safety just above. A metaphor for the life of this world.

We couldn’t have known how this gentle man would manage to melt into our lives and guide us long after he was gone, on the day the old apartment was made to look new, and the walls were freshly painted, and the rabbi was just a stranger to us.

This article originally appeared in Mishpacha magazine and is reprinted with their permission.

Visitor Comments: 40

(40)
Sam Kosofsky,
June 29, 2015 4:25 PM

Rav Orenstein's chesed

I was moved by this article since I knew the Rav and his Rebbetzin from the 1970s. When it came to maintaining kashrus standards on the west side he was uncompomising. A man of iron. When it came to chesed and hachnasos orchim he was a paradigm. He invited my room mate and me to eat with them on Shabbos regularly. Great food, zmiros, divrei Torah. He worried about our guf and our neshamos. Wonderful memories.

(39)
Malki,
June 29, 2015 6:46 AM

Beautiful!

What a special article. Written beautifully, I will learn a lot from it!

(38)
Deborah Litwack,
June 28, 2015 3:02 PM

Beautiful !

We never know what we might learn from others and what's inside of them til we spend the time and observe.

(37)
B. Smith,
December 14, 2010 12:19 PM

Inspiring...makes me feel....human

Thanks for this warming story. It's near zero here this A.M.
The best compliment I can make....Alissa, you are your
mother's daughter.

(36)
Anonymous,
December 9, 2010 3:33 AM

amazing article

hello, that was a outstanding example of self effacing greatness, really a lesson.
PD: Can you tell me which kind of plant he gave you?
Surely the Rab will be in the front line to greet Moshiach

(35)
Moshe B,
September 5, 2010 11:59 PM

Mrs Joseph is the BEST!

I did not know the Rabbi, but I do know the Josephs! Alissa, great piece of writing! Wishing you and all the readers here a happy, healthy and a sweet new year!
RMB
Wellesley, MA

(34)
Anonymous,
July 26, 2010 2:36 PM

One WORD summary: Wonderful.

Alissa. This is a moving piece that brings the rabbi to life, making us love him, and, written in your own voice, tells us who you are, making us want to know you. I've told you before that your ability to use that voice is inspiring. Please continue to delight us with it. Among my favorite lines -- these because they made me laugh out loud -- are, "Quite frankly, I didn’t get it. I mean, what was he up to? Would he always greet me like this or was this just the first hello in the new house after the settling in day so this was the big one?" But what I liked best is that it's a satisfying piece. When I began reading the section on the rabbi's life (On Our Shoulders), I settled in with a sigh. No kidding. From adorable, entertaining and dear, your story becomes rich. Thank you for letting us know, through your eyes, Rabbi Orenstein. Love, Andrea from Ruchama's writing class.

(33)
Jeannette Riddle,
July 26, 2010 9:04 AM

Beautiful, fantastic, heart warming, and charming

I had the feeling I was living in the apartment building.
And, I chuckled at the shopping list--it seemed so
familiar. It was a simcha to read.

(32)
James,
July 20, 2010 11:41 PM

Beautifully written article.

Alissa captured the spirit of a truly amazing man. She uses both wit and warmth to share with us her experience with one truly wonderful human being. Thank you, Allisa, and keep on writing!

(31)
Chaim,
July 20, 2010 6:04 PM

great

Outstanding!
Thank you-

(30)
D. Kigel,
July 20, 2010 1:22 AM

so beautiful

well-written and moving, this article really portrayed what a wonderful Jew the rabbi was. we gave our son a second name of "shmuel" in honor of rabbi shmuel orenstein b/c my husband was so positively impacted by him when he davened in that shul.

(29)
Melissa Groman,
July 19, 2010 4:20 PM

Just Beautiful

I loved this this first time I read it, and love it again now! It shines.

(28)
Anonymous,
July 19, 2010 3:17 AM

Thank you so much for the beautiful article. Rabbi Orenstein was a very special person This article is very appropriate for the nine days. Rabbi Orenstein,he was a man who embodied Torah, Middos, and Torah values.

(27)
Anonymous,
July 18, 2010 7:14 PM

Thank you alisssa for such a beautiful article. This article brought tears to my eyes. To know Rabbi Orenstein was a Zechus,. He was beloved for being the Talmud Chocom as well as a wonderful person. This is an appropriate article before Tisha B'av , teaching us how to appreciate every member of Klall Yisroel.

(26)
Andrew,
July 18, 2010 4:10 AM

A beautiful story of a beautiful man

Mrs Joseph is a gifted writer. The story of Rabbi Orenstein begins in a light breezy style, and slowly draws us in closer -- culminating in a powerful ending which leaves us speechless.
I'm looking forward to reading more from her (including her novel) which i hope will likewise inspire us -- especially in these times where we so desperately need it.

(25)
es58,
July 16, 2010 5:20 PM

May we achieve such "normalcy"

I live "out of town" and my former neighbor's father in law, son of a previous gadol, would visit occassionally. Whenever we would arrive home at the same time, he would stand expectantly until we made eye contact and smile and greet me with a wave and a hello. They moved, so he doesn't come anymore, but your point is correct; that's the normal we should aspire to achieve.

(24)
craig,
July 15, 2010 6:31 PM

Mrs. Joseph-

This is a beautifully crafted piece. Yasher koach!

(23)
dian burhoe,
July 15, 2010 12:30 PM

inspired

What an inspired voice for such an inspirational man.

(22)
Arthur,
July 15, 2010 2:58 AM

Very touching

We shall all learn from this man, only few of those are out there...

(21)
Anonymous,
July 15, 2010 2:01 AM

Delightful!

I loved this piece when I read it in Mishpacha and I loved it all over again here! Wonderful portrayal of a special, inspirational person

quaint but so nice to be acquianted with ! a person who truly practiced Elohim's word!thanks so much for sharing.

(18)
Liba,
July 13, 2010 8:02 PM

What a beautiful story

What a touching tale of the tzaddikim among us - thank you.

(17)
Binyamin,
July 13, 2010 6:52 PM

Great article!

well written and touching. thank you.

(16)
Barbara,
July 13, 2010 3:21 PM

A lovely story

Thank you, Mrs Joseph, for the lovely story of Rabbi Orenstein. You have lifted me up me today. i hope to pass it along and lift someone else up as the day goes on.
Thank you again.

(15)
Shani,
July 13, 2010 6:50 AM

Touched my heart

I like your style of writing and I appreciate that you let us know how the Rabbi influenced you. I'm happy that the love that flowed from the Rabbi through the plant was successful in babies for you. It's always difficult to hear the stories of what so many Jews went through during the war, but the triumph of each Jew who survived it and went on to show others God's love gives the world hope. Blessing to you for sharing.

(14)
Chava Willig Levy,
July 13, 2010 5:24 AM

Wonderful landlord, wonderful tenants.

Alissa, what a glowing tribute you have written! As one who has had the pleasure of knowing you as well as your predecessors, the Marks, I am grateful for the way in which you made this saintly man come alive.

(13)
Heidi T.,
July 12, 2010 2:59 PM

Beautiful!

This was a beautiful article, which brought tears to my eyes. I wish that I knew someone like Rabbi Orenstein!

I didn't know that I was doing the right thing when I learned to greet everyone, friend, relative or stranger, with a smile until I moved to Israel and received enormous feedback.
p.s. Does the author have a relative "Norma Joseph"
a friend I lost track of a long time ago.

(10)
Kreina Staal,
July 12, 2010 2:28 AM

Thank G-d

Thank you for this beautiful article. You were privy to this special relationship, he blessed you with children, and I guess you are forever linked. Yes, when Moshiach comes, it'll be good to stand with Rabbi Orenstein, and be able to claim "I know him"!! I will pass this article on to family and friends.

(9)
Danielle Sarah,
July 12, 2010 1:46 AM

I remember coming to you guys for Shabbos

Hi Alyssa!
Congrats on your well written article. I read it in Mishpacha and remember the days when you and your husband moved in and invited me as a single over for a Shabbos meal. I remember your mentioning the "special" Rabbi. Wow. How time flies. email me sometime. D. Sarah (nieman)

(8)
pat,
July 11, 2010 11:46 PM

Very good article.My hungry soul enjoyed it very much. I'll be waiting for your novel.Thanks

(7)
yitz greenman,
July 11, 2010 9:52 PM

great article

it was great to read this article about a human Kiddush Hashem. i was fortunate to daven at Rav Orenstein zt'l's shule for 5 years when i lived in nyc. He was my son Avraham Yaakov's sandek and he was a walking sefer Torah. Always had a kind and uplifting word. just positive, just Torah, just chessed. truly incredible. thank you Mrs. Joseph for writing such a great article. yitz greenman

(6)
Edwin Axton,
July 11, 2010 7:30 PM

Heartwarming

Reading this serves as a reminder that G-d does send us among us. Very inspiring, and thanks for stating the rabbinical references and the sages responsible thereof.

(5)
Anonymous,
July 11, 2010 7:19 PM

Thank you

What an awesome experience and so beautifully told , thank you for inspiring me.

(4)
Judy,
July 11, 2010 4:40 PM

I too knew the Rabbi. My cousins are the Marks and we often met the Rabbi. He so enriched the lives of all he touched.

(3)
Stan Greenberg, PhD,
July 11, 2010 1:03 PM

In Profound Appreciation

Thank you for this heart felt, warm, encouraging and wonder-fully written sharing. As I begin my day I am inspired and soothed by reading it....

(2)
andria,
July 11, 2010 12:59 PM

Thank you

Thank you for sharing your story. What a reminder of how important a simple smile can be.

(1)
Yosef Ben Shlomo Hakohen,
July 11, 2010 9:45 AM

The Importance of a Friendly Greeting!

This beautiful story reminds me of the following ancient Jewish teachings:
"Receive every human being with a cheerful and pleasant countenance" (Pirkei Avos 1:15 - Teaching of Shammai).
"Receive every human being with gladness" (Ibid 3:16 - Teaching of Rabbi Yishmael)
We not only have an obligation to greet each person in a cheerful and pleasant manner; we also have the obligation try to initiate the greeting, as the Talmud states in the name of Rabbi Masya ben Charash: "Initiate a greeting to every human being" (Pirkei Avos 4:20). In this spirit, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai, a leading sage in the Land of Israel at the end of the Second Temple period, would initiate a greeting with each person that he met in the marketplace, including non-Jews (Brochos 17a).

I live in rural Montana where the Cholov Yisrael milk is difficult to obtain and very expensive. So I drink regular milk. What is your view on this?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Jewish law requires that there be rabbinic supervision during the milking process to ensure that the milk comes from a kosher animal. In the United States, many people rely on the Department of Agriculture's regulations and controls as sufficiently stringent to fulfill the rabbinic requirement for supervision.

Most of the major Kashrut organizations in the United States rely on this as well. You will therefore find many kosher products in America certified with a 'D' next to the kosher symbol. Such products – unless otherwise specified on the label – are not Cholov Yisrael and are assumed kosher based on the DOA's guarantee.

There are many, however, do not rely on this, and will eat only dairy products that are designated as Cholov Yisrael (literally, "Jewish milk"). This is particularly true in large Jewish communities, where Cholov Yisrael is widely available.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote that under limited conditions, such as an institution which consumes a lot of milk and Cholov Yisrael is generally unavailable or especially expensive, American milk is acceptable, as the government supervision is adequate to prevent non-kosher ingredients from being added.

It should be added that the above only applies to milk itself, which is marketed as pure cow's milk. All other dairy products, such as cheeses and butter, may contain non-kosher ingredients and always require kosher certification. In addition, Rabbi Feinstein's ruling applies only in the United States, where government regulations are considered reliable. In other parts of the world, including Europe, Cholov Yisrael is a requirement.

There are additional esoteric reasons for being stringent regarding Cholov Yisrael, and because of this it is generally advisable to consume only Cholov Yisroel dairy foods.

In 1889, 800 Jews arrived in Buenos Aires, marking the birth of the modern Jewish community in Argentina. These immigrants were fleeing poverty and pogroms in Russia, and moved to Argentina because of its open door policy of immigration. By 1920, more than 150,000 Jews were living in Argentina. Juan Peron's rise to power in 1946 was an ominous sign, as he was a Nazi sympathizer with fascist leanings. Peron halted Jewish immigration to Argentina, introduced mandatory Catholic religious instruction in public schools, and allowed Argentina to become a haven for fleeing Nazis. (In 1960, Israeli agents abducted Adolf Eichmann from a Buenos Aires suburb.) Today, Argentina has the largest Jewish community in Latin America with 250,000, though terror attacks have prompted many young people to emigrate. In 1992, the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 32 people. In 1994, the Jewish community headquarters in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 85 people. The perpetrators have never been apprehended.

Be aware of what situations and behaviors give you pleasure. When you feel excessively sad and cannot change your attitude, make a conscious effort to take some action that might alleviate your sadness.

If you anticipate feeling sad, prepare a list of things that might make you feel better. It could be talking to a specific enthusiastic individual, running, taking a walk in a quiet area, looking at pictures of family, listening to music, or reading inspiring words.

While our attitude is a major factor in sadness, lack of positive external situations and events play an important role in how we feel.

[If a criminal has been executed by hanging] his body may not remain suspended overnight ... because it is an insult to God (Deuteronomy 21:23).

Rashi explains that since man was created in the image of God, anything that disparages man is disparaging God as well.

Chilul Hashem, bringing disgrace to the Divine Name, is one of the greatest sins in the Torah. The opposite of chilul Hashem is kiddush Hashem, sanctifying the Divine Name. While this topic has several dimensions to it, there is a living kiddush Hashem which occurs when a Jew behaves in a manner that merits the respect and admiration of other people, who thereby respect the Torah of Israel.

What is chilul Hashem? One Talmudic author stated, "It is when I buy meat from the butcher and delay paying him" (Yoma 86a). To cause someone to say that a Torah scholar is anything less than scrupulous in meeting his obligations is to cause people to lose respect for the Torah.

Suppose someone offers us a business deal of questionable legality. Is the personal gain worth the possible dishonor that we bring not only upon ourselves, but on our nation? If our personal reputation is ours to handle in whatever way we please, shouldn't we handle the reputation of our nation and the God we represent with maximum care?

Jews have given so much, even their lives, for kiddush Hashem. Can we not forego a few dollars to avoid chilul Hashem?

Today I shall...

be scrupulous in all my transactions and relationships to avoid the possibility of bringing dishonor to my God and people.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...